


N2309W07

by princ



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tension, Unresolved Tension, eventually, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princ/pseuds/princ
Summary: Sicheng is the heir to a billion-dollar tech empire. He suspects there's a target on his back and hires an underworld hitman as his bodyguard.But when you come from two drastically different worlds, conflict becomes unavoidable.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun
Comments: 25
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just beat cyberpunk 2077 and wanted to write something lightly inspired by the universe (dw you don't need to have played the game to understand the fic). 
> 
> I'm sorry jaewin are kinda assholes at first, it's written as to how I imagine people from that universe would be (everyones a bit jaded) but their relationship gets better with each chapter.
> 
> Wave is the name of Winwin's assistant A.I., but he mostly refers to it as "W."
> 
> If you didn't read the tags already, there will be mentions of violence and swearing. 
> 
> TW// violence, swearing

Sat parallel to the burly dead brute with an unhinged alloy jaw, Jaehyun—although breathless and beaming with sweat—manages to muster up a scoff, “you’re kidding right, Doyoung?”

“Nope,” the man on the phone pauses, “got the work order right here, says you’re due to be there tomorrow.”

“Yeah, no shit, I have it loaded up on my alerts as well, but _a bodyguard_??” Jaehyun cleans his bloodied hands on the target’s polyester suit. No one would have guessed that a desk jockey—his target demographic—would have been so decked out in gear. His lips, cheeks, and jaw ached each time he opens his mouth, “I told you already, I don’t take those kinda jobs.”

“Sorry mate, _executive_ orders. If you want, you can take it up with them… although I doubt that would work out in your favor.”

“But I never get orders from _them._ Fuck, I thought contractors didn’t work with _executives._ ” Jaehyun staggers to the panoramic windows that made up two walls inside that private corner office. A broken nose—overflowing with mucus and dried blood—reflected back at him. Jaehyun swallows hard, bringing his hands to his face; his knuckles were flayed from beating metal.

“Most field agents don’t, and contractors never do, so consider it a blessing in—”

Jaehyun grits and breaks his nose back into place with an unsightly _CRACK_. A guttural sound escapes him.

“Uhm—is everything okay over there?”

Be it the first time or the hundredth time, you never really get used to the pain. Jaehyun takes another hard swallow, “yeah, yeah, what were you saying?”

“… Alright… Well—I think you should consider it a blessing in disguise, Jae. You’ll be making a sum filthy enough to retire from. If it were up to me, I’d gladly take it.”

“ _If_ I end up retiring… _duration: indefinitely until specified otherwise_?… and how am I supposed to feel assured this isn’t any different from a death sentence.” About a hundred feet below him, the mundane city life bustled, ever awake, especially during the night.

“Sleep on it. The cleanup crew will be there soon, so get your ass moving. I’ve got calls waiting, so we’ll talk later.”

_Click._

~~** _ ** ~~

The following day, a corporate-dispatched vehicle takes Jaehyun to his next job, with eye bags freshly etched into his jagged, sinewy face.

A remarkable plum-colored bruise on his cheekbone gave the illusion that his left eye was always squinting. His bottom lip slightly pouted out, wet and fleshy from being busted. Bandage strips taped over his nose bridge and on the corner of his mouth. He sustained a broken rib and fractured knuckles, some stray shrapnel lodged here and there among other injuries—nothing the doc couldn’t fix, given he scrounges up half his paycheck. Yesterday’s client—a weirdo and likely pervert, not uncommon—wanted to watch the job play out, discouraging the usual sniper-bullets-silencer method, _very much_ to Jaehyun’s inconvenience.

The car maneuvers uphill through a winding residential road, stopping at least a dozen times for security clearance gates. 

On one side of the road, an expansive view overlooked downtown. Hovercars glittered along the skyline, the ancient—recently modernized monorail system made periodic rounds each half-hour, animated neon billboards flickered through ads of the commercial goods, fast foods, and the latest in entertainment. Below, standstill traffic promoted commotion in the form of honks and sizzling car exhausts, pedestrians busied the crosswalks, most corralling to the bumbling business and leisure districts. The booming commerce, monthly holographic sky-parades, and instagrammable landmarks made downtown a tourist hotspot and convenient facade to the crime, poverty, and gangs of the neglected inner cities.

On the other side, grand cubist houses loomed, evenly spaced an acre apart, each atop its own designated hilltop. Like a gallery of glorified fortresses, houses barely peeked over their complimentary concrete fences.

Jaehyun dreads meeting today's client, considering the potential involvement they must have had to contact _executive_.

He gets out of the car, the chilled air fringes against his cheeks. Dark clouds fester overhead with the sun nowhere in sight. Jaehyun slams the car door shut and watches as it disappears behind a corner. Self-driving A.I., usually he isn’t so privileged, all his previous jobs requiring he “self-commute.”

This job must be special—or a set up. In which case, it wouldn’t be all too surprising considering his occupation.

As a front, Neocorp brands itself as a protection agency. But what it really specializes in are hits—run-of-the-mill bodyguards and escort missions by day, underworld assassinations, and information-extraction jobs by night. 

Jaehyun would be your so-called night agent—not even an agent, but a contractor for the company. After he got the nonnegotiable call to be some silverspoon’s bodyguard _indefinitely until otherwise specified_ , he was pissed. It wasn’t what he signed up for. 

Regardless of pay, he preferred his jobs one and done: twist some unfortunate bloke’s neck at 5, then grab a drink from the bar at 7.

Being someone’s full-time bodyguard required extended commitment. This meant having to sit through their pampered meandering.

That’s exactly why Jaehyun chose to kill them for a living, not babysit them. Like most inner-city kids, you could say he had a gripe against those whose pockets lined so heavy, it trampled on the people beneath.

Decidedly, if worse comes to worst, Jaehyun will just threaten to kill the client, and they’ll be forced to swap him out with another agent. _Executive_ or not, Jaehyun’s one of Neocorp’s prized contractors. And if they know anything from his track record, it’s that he doesn’t bluff.

Though he hopes it won't come down to it. He prides himself on keeping somewhat of a clean resume.

Jaehyun clicks the callbox, “your Neocorp order serial N2309W07.”

He waits a few minutes. Silence.

As he reaches to try the callbox again, the gates beside him crank open, the gears in its hinges shackling at the inward momentum.

Jaehyun strolls onto the estate, covering an obnoxiously overdrawn stretch of driveway before he’s able to reach the front door. Ready to greet him stood a chrome housebot on wheels, not an uncommon feature of well-off households. Each housebot was equipped to cook, clean, babysit, maintain the house, you name it—24/7 butlers without the labor abuse charges.

“Please to make your acquaintance. I am Wave, the assigned A.I. to this property. Please verify your identity.” The bot unhinges an input slot atop its three-and-a-half feet tall rectangular body.

Jaehyun uncoils the identification chip in his wrist and jacks it into the input. This motion comes naturally to him like routine.

“Thank you for your cooperation. Please sign to validate that half the settled payment can be deposited to your account along with a release of the owner’s profile and property blueprints,” Jaehyun agrees. The bot releases his chip, it spooling back into his wrist.

Wave rotates, and the front doors click ajar. “Please feel free to make use of my services if the need may arise,” the bot chimes as it rotors inside, off to continue its housekeeping duties.

Jaehyun follows, the doors booming shut behind him.

The interior looked rather unlived in, devoid of any signs of life, no pictures, personal possessions, or decor of any kind, the white furniture appearing barren and untouched.

By the looks of things, he wouldn’t be surprised if the bot was his client and sole resident here.

Jaehyun skims through the bot’s uploaded contents when something within the owner’s profile catches his eye. 

Dong Sicheng.

Jaehyun swears he’s heard that name somewhere before.

It dawns on him that if this is the _Dong Sicheng_ Jaehyun thinks it is, it must be the Dongtech heir. That would explain the exorbitant pay of the job and the unusual procedures that led up to it. 

The public eye hadn’t seen the Dongtech prince in some time—his last mention dating back nine years ago. Nowadays, word on the street is that he’s a recluse and an eccentric paranoiac, unfit to be the heir of anything.

Wonder if that’s why Neocorp kept the client’s identity undisclosed.

Spotted out of the corner of his periphery, our man of the hour—Dong Sicheng descends the glass staircase connected to the second-floor indoor veranda.

A tall figure with dark hair—wet and matted to his face, wearing a long black silk hanfu-styled bathrobe with an embroidery of a golden dragon ripping apart another on the back.

“You are the client, I’m assuming?” Jaehyun greets. For some reason, Jaehyun thought he’d be older.

Sicheng clutched a bath towel, mostly occupied with drying his hair, nose turned up and entirely apathetic to Jaehyun’s presence. As he brushed past, Jaehyun catches a whiff of mint and geranium fresh out of the shower.

The other trails over to the circular couch arrangement by the windowed walls that faced the backyard. He plants himself uprightly onto the middle seat, there is a pause, “so are you just going to stand there all day?”

A pinched expression emerges on Jaehyun’s face.

For the time being, he follows suit. He takes a seat across from Sicheng. In between them, a marble coffee table which Sicheng has now stationed his feet on, baring his black silk boxers and long legs.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Sicheng brushes back his wet locks, “put this in your head,” he tosses a data chip onto the table. The chip—clear with an unknown iridescent liquid sloshing within as if… _alive_ … was unlike any chip Jaehyun had encountered.

“And that is?” Jaehyun says sternly, eyeing the conspicuous piece of tech.

“Insurance,” one side of Sicheng’s lips quirks upwards as he falls back into the puffed cushions, “obviously.”

“Look kid, do you think this is some kind of joke?” Jaehyun leans forward with his hands resting on his knees, his eyes furrowed, appalled by the non-answer answer.

“On the contrary,” Sicheng’s eyes do not raise to meet Jaehyun’s, but rather he twiddles with the belt of his robe, “the best way to find out is to put it in your head, no?”

“I’m not going to put some unknown ware into my head,” frustration grows in Jaehyun’s voice. 

“Are _you people_ always so difficult to work with? What happened to ‘the customer’s always right?’” Sicheng yawns.

“I’m here to do a job, not volunteer to be your science fair experiment.”

“You act like _your kind_ could possibly begin to understand what’s o—”

“Oh? _My kind_ , and what is that supposed to mean?” he sears, eyes turning into darts. A nasty vein begins rearing its way in his fists.

“Please,” Sicheng couldn’t help but chuckle. He throws his head back, eyes glittering as he stares at the ceiling. “I paid for your file. I know all about you—you and the people like you. It’s all the same, really, your run-ins with the law, your family—or lack thereof. And most importantly,… your ties to _my family_.”

“I think we’re done here.” Jaehyun lifts from his seat prepared to leave. Blood drained from his bare white knuckles. Jaehyun hardly expected a warm welcome, but this? The last thing any hitman would expect coming to a job is to be toyed with, not to mention the clear invasion of privacy and abuse of power.

When Jaehyun doesn’t give Sicheng the reaction he wants, the other tries to lure it out of him. “You’re all disease-ridden cockroaches, you know. Day-in and day-out, eagerly feeding on my family’s sewage.” The words leave his lips indiscriminately and soft, treating it as if it were a passing conversation, “simply put—”

Sicheng tosses out the bait and Jaehyun latches on. He lunges at the other, pinning Sicheng down onto the sofa by his collar. It was like something in him had snapped, like all the sour memories and bad experiences suppressed inside him came barrelling out all at once, triggered by a single keyword: cockroach.

First impressions told Jaehyun all he needed to know. Sicheng embodied _the type_ of wealth Jaehyun despised the most: _the type_ that spoke anyway they wanted to anyone they wanted, free of consequence, spitting in the face of those unlucky enough to have spoon-fed him since infancy, shamelessly driving his heels into their back all because he can.

Sicheng deserved to know he’s pressing his luck. “Now, how about you take that back, and I’ll agree to break only _a few_ of your fingers,” threatens Jaehyun.

“Enough already. I knew this would be a waste of time. You can either slot that chip into your thick tin can head or the implant in your neck will blow, and I’ll be sure to send you back to whichever landfill you came from.” Sicheng stays soft-spoken with his attention adrift elsewhere and expression unflinching, “your choic—”

“Do you really think you’re in the position to threaten me?” Jaehyun fully wraps his digits around the other’s neck, tightening just enough to feel the other’s pulse. “Call Neocorp, tell them to give the job to someone else before this escalates.”

“By all means, kill me, and W will be mopping up your brains soon after,” Sicheng chokes out a half-laugh. He doesn’t struggle nor protest. His arms stay neatly by his side.

“Have it your way then.”

“You’ll find out soon…” Sicheng smiles, voice increasingly straining and eyelids beginning to flutter.

As he feels the pulse rate in Sicheng’s neck slow to an almost-halt, a noise began to drum internally, beeping throughout the chambers of Jaehyun’s skull.

It renders him speechless.

He releases Sicheng, backing away from the sofa, the beeping ceasing.

Sicheng erupts into coughs, hunched over, bracing his neck, “Hmm, at least you have a basic understanding of reason, not a complete neanderthal after all.”

“W! A bag of ice!” Sicheng hollers down the hallway, wincing while he does so.

“…You…”

“Impressed you speechless? I had Neocorp install bioware upgrades on you awhile back.” The robot rolls in with the requested bag of ice, Sicheng bringing it to his neck with a sigh of relief, “of course I programmed it, so they didn’t know what exactly they were putting in you.” 

Jaehyun remained silent, anger bubbling up in the pit of his stomach.

“A dead man’s switch. If for any reason my heart stops beating, which was bound to happen _considering the information given on your file_... then kaboom!” The heir continues nonchalantly, attempting to sit back up, “pop goes the weasel.”

“Shut up.” Jaehyun’s eyes turned to flints. He felt an irrefutable rage swelling deep within the pits of his chest, blistering with nowhere to go. He storms out the front door, unable to look at the other without every inch of his being being willed to bite.

“Aw, come on! That was fun, don’t you wanna give it another test run?” Sicheng’s voice echoes behind him.

Outside, Jaehyun attempts to dial Doyoung and Neocorp multiple times but to no avail, his phone reaching a dead dial tone. His face runs red, practically huffing out steam.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!_ He punches a pillar, its surface cracking into an indent beneath the contact.

He wasn’t sure what was more infuriating, that he willingly walked himself into a landmine or that he let some impudent tyrant get the best of him.

Jaehyun rushes back inside, his fists balled up beside him, swelled and scaled from the concrete, “and did you fuck with my phone too?”

“You would only compromise me. The people who are after me have eyes and ears everywhere.” Sicheng sat unchanged, gaze affixed towards the courtyard, one hand pressing the ice to his neck. “You’re no longer Neocorp’s dog. I paid good money to that pound for you to answer to me and me only,” he spoke with a mirthy expression. “Although I’m starting to rethink things with _you strays…_ so the quicker you track down whoever’s stalking me, the quicker you can scurry off to whichever alleyway they scooped you up from.”

 _Are you done yet_ , is what Jaehyun wishes he could say, but instead, he decides to hold his tongue. With a bomb lodged in his head, brute force holds no good. No choice but to get on the heir’s good side and entertain Sicheng’s little mind games until the right moment arrives to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Besides, Sicheng gave him the information he wanted: that this job had an end goal—that it was temporary. Jaehyun finds solace in that and settles himself back onto the couch across from Sicheng. “Fine,” the words grate their way through his teeth. He only hoped that Sicheng had to pay a fortune for Neocorp to hand over one of their best contractors.

The other pauses for a second, as if surprised by Jaehyun’s sudden act of submission.

“Well,” Sicheng coughs, “my throat’s getting dry, so can you…” he gestures to the chip on the table.

Hesitantly, Jaehyun picks up the chip. Its sentient contents magnetize to the warmth of his fingers. He breathes in. Sicheng’s speech convinced him enough about the young heir’s paranoid nature. If every act of his stems from paranoia, then the reasoning behind giving Jaehyun this chip would be no different. It wouldn’t cause death. There’s already a death switch in his head. The contents would likely be to protect his own ass, and with whatever means that may be, Jaehyun had to risk it.

Jaehyun slots it in, the chip sliding in with a successful _click._

Sicheng’s lips curl, pulling out an identical data chip from his pocket, “don’t worry, I’ll wisen you up,” he slides the chip into his own head, “not that I have a choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winwin and Jaehyun are both 23 years old (the age they are right now). Jaehyun is human but with military-grade bioware enhancements (required by his profession) and Winwin is fully human without any enhancements. If you are unfamiliar with the cyberpunk 2077 universe, everyone will look human and have human parts unless stated otherwise, its mostly their inner bodies that are cyborg which would be indicated by superficial metal markings.
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/papasicheng) & [twt](https://twitter.com/papasicheng) ^^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support everyone!!
> 
> The overall jaewin eras I imagined for this fic are punch jaehyun and b&w dream plan launch winwin.
> 
> Also did you see that long jaewin hug asdlbscfdjsdfklj too wholesome, it broke me.

Sicheng lays down on the sofa, his head on the armrest with an ice compress in between. He takes out a tablet and loads up a shooting game that keeps him distracted for the next few minutes, leaving Jaehyun suspended in silence.

Dumbfounded by the other’s juvenile nature, Jaehyun breaks, “are we done here?”

“Waiting for the chip to kick in,” Sicheng taps on the fluorescent glass screen, wholly occupied by the pixelated violence before him.

Jaehyun scans the newly inserted chip and comes up with nothing, no information on it or about it. The chip contained about as much content as an empty cartridge. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was Sicheng’s poor idea of a practical prank, because well, it’s shit. “I feel no different.”

“Hmmm, probably for the better,” Sicheng says inattentively, voice barely audible due to the loud bullet sound effects coming from the video game. “The last guy I stuck it in exploded.”

“Say again?” Jaehyun’s eyebrow curls upward, his mind drawing back to the _unusually reactive_ liquid in the chip.

“Just kidding, I’m not desperate enough to kill people for a living.” The heir stands up, taking the ice compress with him and leaving the tablet—which now had a giant game over screen—behind. “Dealing with _you people_ tires me out.” He leaves the vicinity of the couch and whisks back upstairs, retiring to his bedroom judging from the trajectory of his footsteps.

 _Trust me, the feeling’s mutual_.

Jaehyun rolls out his shoulders and stretches his neck, popping away the stiffness in his joints.

_Guess it’s time to clock in for work._

He reopens the property blueprints and associated materials uploaded previously by the bot. Until nightfall, Jaehyun monotonously runs and reruns over the contents, trying to memorize the layout. The whole task feels pointless, and Jaehyun, out of his element. He only did it because he assumed that’s what bodyguards are supposed to do.

 _Is this what bodyguards do?_ Jaehyun isn’t sure. He hasn’t “body”-“guarded” anyone since the infamous 2o5 incident.

Jaehyun remembers it like it was yesterday. He was a wide-eyed youth, fresh out of jail—or was it juvie—whatever, he doesn’t sweat the details. But during his stay in prison, Jaehyun met a dude, Johnny, believe that was his name. Dude was tatted up to his neck, had a life sentence. For what? He didn’t say, and Jaehyun didn’t care to ask. Johnny recommended Jaehyun to the company, thought he fit the criteria for a hitman.

One thing led to another during one of his earliest jobs, and Jaehyun ended up dangling his client out the 205th-floor of a luxury hotel. Needless to say, he was fired. But working underworld for Neocorp had the retention rate of a revolving door—mostly due to employee deaths—and Jaehyun was back in no time. In the following four years, Jaehyun proved to be adept at his job. He built up a notorious resume under the company with the mutual understanding that they didn’t give him shit jobs, that is, _until now_.

He sighs.

He takes a thermal scan of the home and makes a laundry list of all things notable:

  * Between him and the robot, there appeared to be no other _operatives_ occupying the house, no other bodyguards or security personnel, not even robotic ones. Considering how loaded Sicheng is, he should have an armada of armed guards rivaling a drug kingpin’s.
  * No security cameras. No armed defense systems. No turrets of any kind. Having at least one of those should be a staple for houses nowadays.
  * The walls of Sicheng’s room were laced with anti-thermal metal, disallowing Jaehyun to see past it. Not that he would want to, considering Sicheng hasn’t left his room since earlier that day. And suppose if Sicheng is anything like those other suits Jaehyun has worked with, he’d probably be jacking off, getting high, browsing for snuff films, or whatever else debaucherous. It’s just that you would think he’d deactivate them since he seemed in such a dire need to be protected.



Conclusion? A poorly secured home. Even more concerning, Jaehyun _had_ to be the only bodyguard hired.

He sets up a vantage point for the property, somewhere he could access a 360 view of the home.

Pulling from the property layout, Jaehyun knew that the home had a flat top roof that could be easily accessed by taking the stairs near the patio.

While up there, he noticed how spacious it was, wasn’t much as far as furniture goes, just a singular grand piano overlooking the city. Or Jaehyun assumed it was a piano from the vague shape it took on beneath its weather-worn cover.

Jaehyun spends the rest of the night up there, mentally etching out a patrol route and possible blind spots.

~~** _ ** ~~

The following days were blissfully peaceful.

_Too peaceful._

Jaehyun occupies his mornings with training, smugly using the courtyard statues for target practice. Every day, he comes out, blows a new hole in another pristinely expensive statue, and leaves the leftovers for the bot to pick up.

And from where he stands in the courtyard, he’s sure Sicheng has a front-row seat.

Jaehyun occupies his nights patrolling the property, scanning for intrusions or slight changes. Each day, procuring the same results: none found.

The routine felt like it was just to pass the time until our pampered prince decides to leave his reinforced tower and perhaps cooperate. It might seem like Jaehyun misses him, but he doesn’t. He just feels like he’s wasting his time.

Jaehyun swears the fucker’s probably dead. But regretfully, his head hasn’t blown off yet, so circumstances point to otherwise.

Every so often, they’d communicate using the bot, and Jaehyun rejoices in never seeing his human counterpart, but the conversations feel pretty one-sided.

“Sicheng says you are welcome to do as you please as long as you stay within the perimeter of the property,” the housebot whirs to tell Jaehyun.

“Were those his exact words, or is that what you interpreted?” Jaehyun stares suspiciously down at the chrome aberration.

“Would you prefer that I request an audio recording next time?”

Jaehyun grimaces, “hard pass.” That first mouthy encounter was enough to taste. He didn’t need an audio playback to remind him.

“Anything you want to say to Sicheng?”

Jaehyun thinks for a while. He had a lot to say actually, all mostly threats, which at the moment were about as useful as having nothing to say. Jaehyun shakes his head, “No, nothing.”

“Very well. Maybe that would be for the better. I’d be able to save storage space since Sicheng disallowed me from taking your messages. I wouldn’t know how long I’d be keeping those for considering he rarely changes his mind,” the housebot rotors away.

Jaehyun presses his lips together. _Huh_ , it’s impressive how Sicheng’s exceptional personality manages to shine through even at a distance.

Days pass, and he hadn’t spoken to anyone else besides the heir. It felt like solitary confinement, but Jaehyun would much rather take that over being in the same room as the other male any day.

Going stir-crazy was the least of his concerns. It wasn’t like he had people to contact outside of work anyway.

Getting out of there was his main priority. After all those nights on the lookout, Jaehyun was still waiting on this so-called stalker to show.

To make matters worse, Sicheng gave no leads, let alone leave his room.

The contractor starts to wonder if he should even be here. Sicheng said people were targeting him, and presently, that seems pretty far-fetched from the truth.

Not sure how many more sleepless nights Jaehyun could go either before his 24-hour generator needs recharging. He’s still human, after all.

To conserve the remainder of his energy, Jaehyun spent that following evening on the roof, surveying instead of patrolling.

As the night progressed and nothing turned up per usual, the whole job began to feel like an elaborate joke.

Why not treat it as such?

A man can only beat a dead horse so many times before he gets restless.

Random impulse thinking—they say that’s what happens when you go one too many days without sleep.

Call it the clouded judgment, call it childhood nostalgia, call it actually going stir-crazy, call it wide-eyed curiosity, _whatever_.

Jaehyun had his eyes set on that rooftop piano since his first night there. He used to own one too, but it was just a toy. He’d only ever seen a _grand piano_ in old-school documentaries.

Grand pianos were expensive relics nowadays. Only a select few could afford one. A inner-city kid like himself would never in a million lifetimes dream of step foot near one.

He wonders how it would sound, how the keys would feel under his fingers, how melodic it would be. He always liked the piano set he had at home. It reminded him of his family. Too bad playing the piano didn’t bring home the dough around these parts of town.

He unravels the protective sheet, it sliding off smoothly like silk, unveiling a crystal glass case beneath.

The moon and fluorescent city scene reflected on its surface. Inside, as clear as day, were its authentic brass organs.

He props the lid open. His late father always said the sound was produced better that way.

He grabs the stool situated beneath the piano and settles down upon it.

Jaehyun lifts the keyboard cover and ponders what to play. He hadn’t touched a musical instrument since childhood. He tries sincerely to recall the only song he knows, the one his late mother taught him.

It comes hazily. He’s hesitant to reproduce the tune from memory. It takes a couple of trials before he’s able to find the right pitch.

Surprised by his own muscle memory, his digits slide across the keyboard naturally.

The notes resonate lucidly. Each pressed key hangs on to its predecessor, the vibrations running through his fingertips.

Jaehyun halts when he spots the reflection of Sicheng’s silhouette against the piano. It was hard to see with only the illumination of the moon, but Jaehyun knew that wily figure anywhere.

_Must have interrupted his beauty sleep._

Jaehyun gets up, preparing himself for some kind of mouthy quip.

Instead, Sicheng speaks in a low murmur, “keep playing.” The other was still but swayed ever so slightly.

Jaehyun parts his lips to speak, but his word bank runs dry. The billowing wind and distant nightlife filled the silence between them.

“I want you to keep playing,” Sicheng stomps over, slurring his words. He grabs Jaehyun’s hand, slamming it down onto the keys, the piano letting out an ungraceful yelp.

Sicheng’s hands were frigid and clammy, and he reeked of alcohol.

They were only a few centimeters apart. Jaehyun could practically feel the other’s heated breath against his shoulders. Whatever happened clearly had Sicheng very worked up.

Sicheng meets Jaehyun with an unfamiliar expression.

Like an entirely different being, Sicheng gazes at Jaehyun through glassy doe eyes, with a look of anticipation, curiosity, and maybe even naivety. Jaehyun squints, unsure how to pinpoint it, especially in the dark.

Jaehyun wags his head and blinks profusely, just in case this was a hallucination. It had been a while since his last good night’s rest.

And when it wasn’t, Jaehyun turns to leave without a parting goodbye, verbal or otherwise. He didn’t like dawdling with drunks.

Sicheng stumbles after him, latching on to the hitman’s wrist with both hands, squeezing tightly, and pulling.

Jaehyun freezes up, turning to stone where their limbs connected. Another overdrawn moment of silence passes. 

“Please,” Sicheng breathily squeaks, his face invisible behind his bangs and slightly bowed head.

 _He must be out of his mind._ Jaehyun’s chest stops with an inflate and slowly rotates away from the exit. 

The hitman frees himself, taking full offense to the other’s current state. He sits back down, without much choice. Maybe Sicheng has a penchant for piano pieces. Maybe he’ll back off once it’s over.

Sicheng mirrors him and blindly leans on the other to scoot over, bumping elbows in the process. Jaehyun grits through it, too fatigued to protest.

With his hands tucked under his bottom, Sicheng eagerly watches the other. Jaehyun starts from the beginning, the entire time stiffly uncomfortable with the warmth of Sicheng’s body pressed beside his. With all that open space around them, the air was oddly stagnant. It was evident that the piano stool was made only to fit one.

As he played, an overwhelming wave of guilt and regret washed over Jaehyun. However, it was not his, but a foreign force’s. A piquing sense of intuition told him it was Sicheng’s.

He felt goosebumps even though he wasn’t cold. He felt light and dizzy even though he hadn’t drunk. He felt a tightening pain in his chest where there was none. He felt tears that he couldn’t touch on his own cheeks. And he felt himself beside himself.

He felt memories that were not his own—memories where he is a child, no older than 6, with arms outstretched. He feels weary and cold. He clutches onto someone, a woman in a white evening gown, with long black hair. The woman lifts him up and sets him beside herself. She smells of roses and fresh eggs in the morning. With her arms around him, her evening gown envelopes him, and he feels safe and warm. They are sitting by a piano, identical to this one.

Jaehyun jolts, startled when a completely unconscious Sicheng slumps over on him.

Jaehyun reflexively swipes him off, only for Sicheng to fall backward entirely like a ragdoll. In a panic, afraid he’d hit his head and murder them both, Jaehyun dives to catch the other.

_God, this is weird._

Never thought he’d have to play designated driver on top of a glorified babysitter, more reminders as to why he doesn’t take these kinds of jobs.

Jaehyun contemplates leaving Sicheng there to teach him a lesson and because it’d be funny, but ultimately decides against it as it would be less than favorable if vultures start pecking his eyes out.

Jaehyun scoops Sicheng up. The other was oddly light for his stature.

Jaehyun brings him inside, depositing him on the couch where they first met.

Under the faint warm glow of the indoor lights, Jaehyun got a closer look at Sicheng’s face.

While he was asleep, Sicheng was more bearable—maybe even gentle-looking. He had long wispy eyelashes and a soft, demure face.

Around his neck, now more apparent were the bruised purple and blue hues. Jaehyun feels remorseful, but he tells himself otherwise. Appearances can be deceiving.

Jaehyun’s nose begins to run.

He touches the skin above his lips and draws it back to see blood. The hitman retracts from the sight in disbelief.

His gaze shoots back to Sicheng, who while still unconscious, was simultaneously bleeding from his nose.

_The fuck?_

Jaehyun panickingly gets up to reorient himself, the room begins to spin, and his sinuses start to sting. He grapples onto the couch for leverage, his eyes watering in the process. A grainy metallic taste bleeds into the back of his throat. He begins to see beads of monotone color cloud his vision. His muscles disobey him, his body grows heavy and labored with each step. His hold loosens, and he falls backward, slamming down onto the floor. Before slipping out of consciousness, he calls for the housebot as a last-ditch effort. Unfortunately, nothing beyond the first syllable leaves his lips.

~~** _ ** ~~

Jaehyun’s sees flashes of all-white and feels a slightly numb tingling sensation in his hands.

_What? Is this heaven?_

The tingly sensation spreads throughout the rest of his body, enveloping him in its warmth.

_Guess they’ll just let anybody in, huh?_

It begins to hurt, maybe even burn a little.

_Wait._

It escalates into a paralyzing pain, feeling as if millions of lava needles were rapidly stinging his muscles all at once.

_Ah fuck! I’m being electrocuted._

Jaehyun jolts awake, his head buzzing from the aftershock and vision blurry.

“Hm, guess you’re not dead after all,” an all-too-familiar disembodied voice rings beside him.

_Sounds far from anything angelic._

Sicheng kneeled beside him, holding two car battery jumper cables, “W! cancel the new bodyguard applications.”

_Ah right, back in hell._

“Good news, the chip works, and your brain didn’t melt in the process,” Sicheng gets up, tossing the jumper cables aside and dusting off his hands, “bad news, you look like absolute dogshit.”

Jaehyun’s eyes trail the length of the cables. They led to a newly torn-out electrical socket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Johnny makes his debut in this chpt, every member will eventually, maybe. And johnten as a side ship?? Not sure yet, my brain power isn’t that strong lmfao orz
> 
> The song Jaehyun plays on the piano is last dance - no vacation
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/papasicheng) & [twt](https://twitter.com/papasicheng) ^^


	3. Chapter 3

Jaehyun slides open the shower door, releasing a puff of hot steam into the rest of the bathroom. The smell of Sicheng, mint and germanium permeated on him; Jaehyun does his best to ignore it, considering the selection of shampoos to choose from were… _limited_. 

Wet footprints and water droplets trail him as he approaches the sink counter, a neatly folded towel waiting there. He brashly dries himself and leaves the towel hung around his neck to catch any remainders of water from his hair.

He wipes the fogged-up mirror. Instantaneously, it lights up and clears itself. _Huh, must be touch-activated._

Wave’s voice emanates from within the reflective surface, “Hello, Jaehyun, how was your shower?”

“Heated water feels _interesting_ , I guess,” he inspects himself, it had been a while since his last real shower, “didn’t know you were _here_.”

“As always, I am happy to lend my services,” a wall drawer beneath the mirror and a closet-sized cabinet beside it slides out, “I am a smarthome housebot after all.”

“Right...” Jaehyun leans over the bathroom countertop to inspect the contents of the drawer. In it laid toothpaste, toothbrushes, deodorant, razors, a hairdryer, and various other miscellaneous grooming essentials. In the cabinet, hung on a rack were some slacks, a pair of briefs, a suit jacket, a dress shirt, and a skinny tie with complimentary tie clip. Beneath the rack were a pair of dress shoes and calf-length socks. The attire consisted of all black, save for the dress shirt, which was bleach white. Jaehyun wasn’t sure what was wrong with just washing the clothes he had on before, “is this all supposed to be for me?”

“Correct, and do let me know if anything may be damaged, used, or not to your satisfaction. So I can replace it.”

“... Sure,” he stood, perplexed. The dramatics of everything seemed way too fancy for just staying at home. This didn’t all just appear out of thin air either, and Jaehyun doubts that Sicheng would suddenly be so generous.

Jaehyun shuffles through the grooming products, putting each one to good use. As barbaric as his occupation required him to be, Jaehyun prefers to stay hygienic, especially after that week-long muck marathon, “by the way, Wave, how long was I out for?”

“Precisely four days, twelve hours, twenty eig—”

Jaehyun chokes on the toothpaste, he rinses his mouth out in between coughs, “and you didn’t think to wake me up once?!”

“Unfortunately, Sicheng removed some of my functions shortly after he regained consciousness.”

 _Is that kid really still treating this like some joke?_ Jaehyun massages his temples, “And how long was _he_ out for?”

“Precisely five hours, seven minutes, fifty-five seconds.”

Dongtech and purposeful employee negligence, no surprises there. Jaehyun could imagine Sicheng got a sick laugh out of it too, the only element missing was waking up with multiple dick drawings on his face.

But Jaehyun digresses, begrudgingly, best to save his sentiments for when the job’s over. He hastens his pace when sifting through the cabinet.

The garments were extravagant, maybe even overkill. The labels were entirely in French save for _Made in Italy_ and _100% Virgin wool_ , whatever that means. He tries them on. It’s a suspiciously snug fit. He wasn’t sure when Sicheng got his measurements or if coincidentally, the clothes were premade in Jaehyun’s size. He leaves the jacket unbuttoned, as he always does, better motility that way.

_Huh, so this is what they mean when they say someone looks like a million dollars._

He didn’t look like himself per se, but an alternative version of himself. Jaehyun wonders if it’s normal to think that it suited him but feel guilty about it.

He shies away from his reflection, unclasping the bathroom door, contrasting cool air barreling against his face. 

Outside, Sicheng made himself comfortable on the couch, occupying his attention towards what was on his tablet. He, too, had changed his clothes, wearing an equally formal all-black tux ensemble, except paired with a black turtleneck.

The soles of Jaehyun’s shoes were stout against the porcelain flooring, each hurried step echoing throughout the home.

This caught the attention of Sicheng, who bursted into laughter when his eyes caught wind of Jaehyun.

Used to the antics, Jaehyun makes an effort to ignore it.

“I know I called you my dog but did you have to go and look like an actual pomeranian.” The heir’s speech was barely decipherable in between his laughter. It took him a good minute to stop, “W! Mind bringing over the pomade.”

The bot arrives with an unrecognizable container that Sicheng swipes and rubs on his fingers. He approaches Jaehyun and begins applying it in his hair, the other smelling faintly of the familiar mint and germanium.

Jaehyun, taken aback by the sudden proximity, swats Sicheng’s hand away.

The other looks at him straight-faced, “please, did you actually think I’d bring you anywhere looking like _that_?”

“What do you mean?” it was shameful to admit, but Jaehyun felt like a dog whose ears perked up at the mention of a walk.

“Were you under the assumption that I’d loan you my clothes so we could sit around and play scrabble all day?”

 _Your clothes?_ Jaehyun looks down at his body, wanting to jump out of his own skin. He felt a rash inching up his spine from the sheer mention of sharing Sicheng’s clothes.

“Well, technically, I had W remake them to suit your _capabilities_. I couldn’t wear it anyway if I wanted to, considering _a certain puppy_ got a little too overly excited his first day on the job.” Sicheng taps a clean finger onto the middle of Jaehyun’s chest. “And _your_ clothes were starting to smell.”

“And where are _my_ clothes?”

“Incinerator.”

“What?”

“W can hand you the ashes if it has sentimental value to you.”

“Forget it.”

“Long gone,” Sicheng reaches to reapply the product.

Jaehyun dodges him, “I can do it myself.”

“Alright, but if you end up looking any sillier today, we’re shaving your head,” Sicheng turns away to go wash his hands.

Was that supposed to be a threat? Jaehyun isn’t sure. Was it just his imagination, or did the other sound a bit rejected?

Jaehyun uses the window behind the couch to do what he thought was a good enough job of levelling out the poof on his head. He didn’t notice anything particularly wrong with his hair earlier, so he wasn’t exactly sure what the fuss was all about.

Sicheng returns to the same spot on the couch, again, glued to his tablet.

Jaehyun approaches, but Sicheng is the first to break the ice, “ready to go over tonight?”

“First, I have some questions.”

An extended moment of silence hung between them before the heir spoke, groaning, “ugh, fine, but make it quick.”

“About that night?”

“I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

“On the roof...”

“Not sure I follow…”

Jaehyun realizes Sicheng doesn’t remember and decides not to press. He leaves out certain details to make it less _awkward_ , “…it felt like I was in your head.”

“Right, guess that is the function of the chip after all,” Sicheng replies nonchalantly, not looking away from his tablet screen once, continuing to draw flicking motions undisturbed.

“Guess?”

“Correct, I wasn’t sure what was on that chip. All I had was a theory that you just confirmed.”

“And yet you pretended like you knew and demanded it be shoved in my head anyway,” Jaehyun’s voice was laced with indignation.

“I didn’t pretend to do anything. It worked, didn’t it? We’re both in one piece, aren’t we?” Sicheng stays unreactive, as always.

“One piece? You call passing out with blood spurting from my nose _one piece_?” Jaehyun begins to pace the length of the couch parallel to Sicheng’s.

“Look, I’m not going to argue semantics with you. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Really? How?” Jaehyun stops, eyes wide, he stands, his hands pressing down on the couch backrest, and shoulders broad and threatening.

“The truth is—” Sicheng’s gaze scurries to the ground, he chews at his bottom lip before he’s able to answer, “can we save this for later?”

Jaehyun raises a hand to press at the chip input, “I’m taking this shit outta my head—”

“Wait!” Sicheng shoots up from his seat.

The abrupt and out-of-character response was enough to delay Jaehyun. Sicheng always acted like someone who answered to no one, that is, until today, it was satisfying, to say the least. Jaehyun brings his raised hand behind his ear instead, “what was that?”

Sicheng recomposes himself, cheeks subtly pink as if catching on to what he had slipped, he breathes out. His eyes shoot past Jaehyun, “just thought it would be better if we talked about it over dinner—dinner out—eating out,” voice low and dogged.

Jaehyun follows the other’s gaze. With his head slightly turned to his shoulder, he spots Wave out of his peripheral. The housebot was motionless, with its back turned to them. Jaehyun catches on. His quick judgment tells him they should leave, but his pettiness tells him otherwise, “hmm, for some reason, I’m not that hungry, must have something to do with that _four-day-long_ nap.”

Sicheng squints at him, Jaehyun can tell he’s seething.

“Then starve,” the heir grits, walking off into what Jaehyun assumed was the direction of the garage, his footsteps aggressive and heavy.

~~**_** ~~

Sicheng had an impressive collection. A slew of shiny sports cars lined his garage, with space generous enough to add a couple dozen more.

 _Excessive_ , to say the least.

Its size was further magnified by how their shoes and the fluorescent ceiling light’s buzzing mixed in echo.

Jaehyun follows Sicheng to a stocky black car, the doors sliding upwards as the other settles into the backseat.

Jaehyun proceeds after, entering the driver’s seat. The windows were solidly tinted, the interior was a mix of black and deep turquoise leather with gold accents.

When the doors closed, the garage lights switch off, shrouding them in a plume of darkness.

The air fell heavy. That’s how it always feels when leering words aren’t present to cut the tension between them.

“Just drive,” Sicheng sits, audible from the backseat.

Jaehyun complies, shifting on the ignition. Moving the vehicle reactivated the garage lights, which tracked them to the exit. The path sloped upwards, making the garage door an extension of the ceiling, sliding open like a hatch when Sicheng clicks.

 _Basement garage_ , Jaehyun almost forgot.

It was dusk out, not that you could easily tell with the constant overcast.

Jaehyun couldn’t get used to driving down that winding neighborhood road if he wanted to; it felt just as alien to him as it did when he had first arrived.

“Destination?” Jaehyun unwinds the spooled chip from his palm, looking for a car integration jack to plug into.

A wave of Sicheng’s aroma wafts into the front seat as the other leans forward to bat Jaehyun’s chipped hand away. “Can you stop sticking yourself into everything you see?”

 _Noted_ , Sicheng values inconvenience. Jaehyun unhands the chip and glares at him, “destination?”

“The de Palazzio Hotel, Downtown, I memorized the way,” Sicheng reels back into his seat. A solid _umph_ escapes the cushion when it meets with his back.

“Thought we were getting _‘dinner.’”_

“You can gladly gorge yourself when we get there.”

“Not what I meant.”

“There’s an annual charity auction.”

“What happened to finding your stalker?”

“That’s what we’re doing. A few prominent names and key corporate players are said to be in attendance.”

“By going to some fancy event where a bunch of fancy people are?”

“God, clueless and inquisitive, couldn’t you just pick one?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been guarding your property for the past week. If your stalker hasn’t appeared then, what makes you think your stalker will appear now?”

“In case _you_ haven’t noticed, my stalker doesn’t stalk physically.”

“Sounds like your stalker’s a shit stalker.”

Sicheng dials on the radio, a blast of deafening static floods the car stereos. It’s so loud he has to shout over it, “Woah, my favorite song just came on!”

 _Juvenile._ Jaehyun turns it off, “you still haven’t answered my question.”

Sicheng pauses. “Look, there’s a lot to unpack. Trust runs rare nowadays when anything can be tampered with. And I’ve suspected that housebot had been bugged for some time now. From where? I’m not sure. I couldn’t trace it. I’ve had my eyes on it since shortly after you arrived when it began _deviating_. Not a day goes by where I’m not tinkering with the damn thing. And while you were unconscious, I opened up your hard drive—”

“You what?!—” Jaehyun slams down on the brakes, the car clunking to an abrupt stop, sending both of them jolting forward clumsily.

“Shut up and let me finish—to remove all the components it installed on you. Hidden within the files was a sophisticated sleeper virus that took me _four-full-days_ to extract completely. Unreleased tech that I assume would only be accessible to those of an elite circle, which is exactly why we are going to that _fancy event_.”

“Okay, great, that answered _some_ things,” Jaehyun clicks his tongue, still skeptical, but resumes driving.

“You’re welcome.”

"So let's dismantle the bot when we get back then," Jaehyun tries to sound casual despite his ears heating up, “but that wasn’t the question I was referencing...”

Sicheng groans, “then what is?”

“What did you mean when you said that _it could have been a lot worse_?”

“ _Ugh_ , does it look like we’re sitting at a dinner table right now?”

“I thought that was a figure of speech.”

“For the next few hours, just make sure we get out in one piece, and I’ll tell you everything your prying mind needs to know.”

No matter how Jaehyun approached it, the subject seemed too touchy for the other. From observation, Sicheng was unusually antsy today.

Rumors foretold that heir was a recluse, but Jaehyun didn’t think it would be this bad. Truth be told, the nervous energy was rubbing off on him.

Jaehyun rolls down his window. He needed static noise to cancel out all the fidgeting Sicheng was doing.

Outside, the air was still and damp, like it always is before a rainstorm. It had been a while since it last rained, the forecasts indicating that this next one will be a big one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to hit me up on [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/papasicheng) & [twt](https://twitter.com/papasicheng) ^^


End file.
